The story of three souls
by timewastingtimemachine
Summary: one-shot. Three children meet on the way to hogwarts and nothing will ever be the same. The night they entered the halls of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore saw three bright spirits, untouched by the world. As they left, he saw broken children and, for the first time in nearly eleven years he felt fear. Rated m for mentions of murder and violence.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any associated characters, places or ideas in any way related to the books of J. K. Rowling.

 **A story of three souls**

There once was a boy, with hair the colour of the midnight sky and green eyes filled with hidden knowledge and determination, masked with a gaze of resignation.

The first time Harry James Potter tried brewing a lethal potion was the night after Neville Longbottom had managed to blow up the contents of his cauldron in his first potions lesson and he had first tasted the _delight_ that came from harming those he hated. After all, Neville had rather openly stated that he wants nothing to do with the boy.

That night, his eyes gleamed with mirth as he stood in front of his very first self-brewed potion, designed to let the victim relive all hurtful things they had ever done, from the victims point of view, his recipe prepared by the girl behind him. He laughed into the night and the two people standing behind him smiled as the sound of broken dreams echoed in the halls of Hogwarts for the first time and he thought about how delighted he'd be once he went back to his relatives and killed them.

Many potions would follow.

* * *

There once was a girl, with a smile not quite right and eyes that told of a huge intellect and burdens no eleven-year-old should ever have to shoulder.

The first time Hermione Jane Granger entered the restricted section was after a charms lesson about ridiculous morals to be upheld while using magic, leaving her to think about what could be done without all these _morals_ restricting magic.

That night, her eyes shone as she copied all the books she could find on magic and its' theory, no matter whether it was considered 'dark' or 'light' alongside the boy with midnight hair. No moral compass influenced her, for she had soon learned from her parents that in the end, the only thing that counted was power. Power she hadn't had before. Their third companion was missing, as the cloak the small boy had stolen from the headmaster after the sorting could only fit two children fully.

She read them throughout the nights, always watched by the two boys beside her, sometimes silently chuckling, a sound so different from the pained laughter her friend sometimes spat out.

Her desire to learn only grew with each book.

* * *

There once was a boy, with a proud posture like a marionette held only by a few threads, and eyes that shone with intellect and a hushed shadow that promised terror to those that thought him to be _only_ a boy.

The first time Ronald Billius Weasly attempted a ritual to strengthen his body was after meeting the troll in the girls' bathroom after Hermione had decided to go off in panic at the thought of the troll reaching the library.

They had stumbled upon the troll in a corridor and Hermione had led it into the girls' bathroom with a slight compulsion charm she had found in the they had locked the door and left.

He knew he needed to get stronger, had felt utterly useless that night and reminded of his past.

That night, his body creaked as he drew the last runes and lay in the circle as Harry James Potter and Hermione Jane Granger watched over him, just as he had for them, always. His eyes shone with pleasure and the feeling of finally being something worth of his own place in the family filled him.

It wouldn't be the last ritual.

* * *

They were children, and they changed Hogwarts forever.

Harry James Potter, Ronald Bilius Weasly and Hermione Jane Granger found solace in each other, solace, that was denied them from the people in their world. They talked long and in hushed voices on the journey to Hogwarts, got sorted in Hufflepuff to everyone's surprise and never left each other's side.

They ate, learned and even slept together, huddled together on either of their beds, while nightmares raged through their minds, only abating when they slept as close to the others as possible. The latter was made possible because every student in Hufflepuff had their own room, a luxury caused by their small numbers.

The three had started something, and while they followed their own agenda, things started happening at Hogwarts.

A student would be found dead, without any trace of harm, the only thing that would have indicated murder being the little wound, fitting a syringe perfectly, that the student had on his wrist.

Nobody had a single clue.

Draco Malfoy was found dead at the base of one of the moving staircases, his head bent in an unnatural angle, everything pointing to an unlucky fall, if not for the absolute look of terror on the boy's face.

Some were suspicious, but soon focused on other things. It had been a simple accident after all.

Professor Quirrel was found after having missed a week, in the great hall, strangled by the rope around his neck and hanging from the stormy sky, the glamour that had been put on him having expired just then, letting everybody see his dead, lifeless body.

A student had screamed.

* * *

Hermione Jane Granger had killed before, and by now she was quite used to the feeling it brought her. So when Ron pushed the Draco Malfoy down the stairs and then broke his neck after he had called her a mudblood the day before, she didn't flinch and neither did Harry.

After all, he had always called at her these _disgusting_ names, he simply had to go. Her boys would protect her, no matter who or what was standing in their way, she knew that.

Others may say many things about her, that she was emotionless, not capable of them or had no morals, she wouldn't care. For her, the rest of the world could be crashing and burning, as long as her boys were safe and with her, she wouldn't care one bit.

And while Ron killed ruthless and with pure strength, Harry with a perfect plan and not as much as a sound, she killed like it was an art, precise, calculated and always used to the best and maximized effect.

* * *

Ronald Billius Weasly had always known that he was different, wasn't as brave as Bill, as sportive as Charlie, as orderly as Percy, as talented as Fred and George or as cute'. But never he would have thought that he would find friends so close that he could practically feel the bond between them with his magic. He was ... twisted, thought dark thoughts, didn't shy away from dark magic like a good wizard and when inside of the room the three shared, one could always see a rather maniacal gleam in his eyes.

And when Harry confessed to having killed the student whose name he didn't know after injecting him with several potions, looking up at him and Hermione like he wasn't sure if they even wanted to be in the same room as him, Ron had hugged Harry forcefully, and as inexplicable as it had been, had felt proud of his Harry, like a father watching his son learning how to drive a bike.

When Hermione joined them both, gently healing their scars with her presence like always, their magic flared and as they cried together, silently sobbing, mourning the innocence they'd lost that day, for what one did would reflect on them all, it bound them even tighter together, already foreshadowing the deep bond of love that would come out of their friendship.

* * *

Harry James Potter had been alone for most of his life, so when he boarded the train he had expected people to shun him and to have to live with the same cautious, guarded nature he had all those horrible years before.

He hadn't expected anybody to pick up the broken pieces that were left of him and try to piece them together. To his surprise not only one, but two children did. They met and in the next moment Harry knew that this bond, this friendship was for life.

So when Hermione told him and Ron about the looks professor Quirrel had given Harry when he hadn't been looking, full of perverse lust and desire, he was immensely glad he had his friends, as he felt their outrage and protectiveness for him. He shuddered at the thought of this, this beast defiling him, but he knew that they would work something out.

* * *

Three souls had entered that castle that first night, and a year later, as they left, they had a spring in their step.

They were children, and Hogwarts would never be the same.

* * *

They were fully prepared.

Each had a second wand, they had acquired, or rather threatened Ollivander with the dead of his wife for until he gave them one each, so they could use magic even out of school.

Everything was planned out. Ron would go back to the burrow, return to the shadow he had been before he had met them and continue his research on human enchanting.

Hermione would go back to her parents, to the life where everyone thought her below themselves and play the meek little girl while learning what she could from the books they'd copied, that is, until Harry, who would return to the Dursleys, had killed them, placed a glamour they had researched for half of the schoolyear on the house, and get to Hermione who had given him her cellphone number and address.

From there they'd wait for Ron to get them with his car and leave the British Wizarding World for good.

There was nothing there to hold them, besides the empty memories of a family long murdered, one that didn't even notice or one that ignored them.

* * *

The night they entered the halls of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore saw three bright spirits, untouched by the world.

As they left, he saw broken children and, for the first time in nearly eleven years he felt fear.

* * *

 _fin_


End file.
